


Mutants and Sneeches

by Hoodoo



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Discovery, Gen, Lessons learned, Literary References & Allusions, mutant cure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 17:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20100607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/pseuds/Hoodoo
Summary: The good Dr. McCoy has a talk with an Xavier School employee and realizes a few things about people he thought he knew. Written in 2006 afterX-Men: The Last Stand.





	Mutants and Sneeches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shalovem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shalovem/gifts).

> If it's been a while since you've seen it, please remember that a cure for mutation was offered in the film.

Back within the walls of Xavier's mansion felt familiar, even if the faces in the hallways were not. Hank McCoy chuckled to himself as he made his way to a spare bedroom, wondering if he was ever as young as some of the children gracing the place now.

His mind was aswirl with the past few days revelations and developments. A chance to look normal again? To undo the damage he'd done to himself? He'd thought it irreversible . . . but then, mutations themselves were irreversible too. Weren't they?

It was a scientific path he'd never explored. All his research and study in genetics and he'd not once thought, "what if we could be normal again?"

Dinner was long over for the students, but Hank had had a late flight and hoped scrounging through the kitchens would prove fruitful. With a weary glance at his unpacked overnight bag, he promised himself a quick visit before returning to his room.

Walking back downstairs, he was still wrapped in his own thoughts when he pushed the swinging doors to the kitchen open.

"Dr. McCoy!" a voice startled him out of his thoughts. "I'd heard you'd come home!"

Hank smiled broadly at the middle-aged woman standing at the sink.

"Ms. Weaver!" he exclaimed. "I didn't know you were still here."

"Oh, someone has to keep the place going," she chuckled, and walked around the island to hug him. It was a tight hug, then she stepped back to survey him. "Let me take a look at you. You're practically wasting away to nothing, living on that government cafeteria food. Let me get something together for you."

"Ms. Weaver, I'm perfectly capable of finding something to eat. You've had a long day--don't wait on me."

She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Don't be silly, Dr. McCoy. Sit down. I insist."

With only a half-hearted protest, Hank sat.

"When will you stop calling me Dr. McCoy, Ms. Weaver?"

"When you stop calling me Ms. Weaver," she replied over her shoulder. "You're a doctor, and it's respectful. If you start calling me Jane, I'll call you Henry."

Hank laughed. "Very well, Jane--you've got a deal."

She smiled at him over the refrigerator door. Pouring a glass of iced tea, she set it in front of him. He watched her pile together ingredients for a sandwich--pastrami on rye, with horseradish. How did she remember his favorite--

"Is is true, Henry?" she asked quietly. "A cure? It's all the children were talking about during supper."

He sighed. "It certainly appears that way. Worthington Labs has synthesized a chemical to null an individual's mutation."

"Hmph."

Jane pushed his plate with sandwich and pasta salad over to him.

"You don't seem impressed," he observed.

"Well, if they can do that, why not do something useful? Why not synthesize Mr. Logan's healing ability to help people? Or . . . did you know Charles hired a new gardener? He has a touch to make plants grow like anything. Why not make that so people everywhere have enough to eat?"

Hank chewed thoughtfully on his meal. "All valid points. However, many people still regard all mutants as a threat, and see very little benefit to their abilities at all. And physically challenged mutants may embrace the opportunity to be seen as "human." Not all of us are comfortable in our skins."

Jane patted his arm and apologized. "Henry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make light of anyone's situation."

"No offense taken. But I take from your attitude you'll not be getting the cure."

She laughed. "Dr. Henry McCoy. We've known each other for many years. Can you, with all your doctorates and research, tell me what my mutation is?"

Hank opened his mouth to answer, then shut it. He thought for a moment: Ms. Jane Weaver was a fixture at Xavier's, making meals, doing light housework, tending to scrapes and bruises and broken hearts. In the years he'd known her, he'd never taken an interest in what power she might have. Hank suddenly felt that she'd been taken for granted.

He finally had to admit, "I'm at a loss. I have known you for a long time, and I don't know what your mutation is."

Jane laughed delightly again. It was a surprisingly girlish sound from a middle aged face. "I've stumped the genius Dr. McCoy! Henry, I'm going to let you in on a secret. Well, not a secret, because I'm not hiding it. I'm not a mutant."

For a second time, Hank was speechless.

"I've worked for Charles Xavier since before he opened his school," she continued. "He is a great man, with great dreams. And I'm proud to work for him, and see from behind the scenes how he struggles to make those dreams come true. I'm happy to have met so many new people with unbelievable abilities, and watch them grow into more than they thought possible.

"Oh Henry, so many times I wished I could be one of them--one of you, with something unique and amazing to show the world."

Jane paused and raised her apron to dry her eyes.

"But I'm not," she said. "I'm just little old me. Watching from the sidelines, wondering what it's like to be so special."

She stopped again to take a shaky breath.

"Don't mind me, Henry," she said forcefully. "Just a woman who wished she was something she's not. Just like everyone, I guess."

Hank took her hand.

"You are special--"

"Oh, quiet," Jane interrupted. "I want to be special, and so many others want to be not special. They should come up with a shot to do that. Then everyone would get what they wanted."

She managed to chuckle, and Hank said, 

"Like the plain-bellied Sneetches?"

That made her laugh out loud, and he smiled too.

"You are something, Henry." She wiped her eyes again and squeezed his hand. "You're a good man. I know you're confident in who you are. Other people are proud of you too. And remember that a lot of people look up to you, and what you've accomplished. Mutant or not."

"Wise advice, Jane. Perhaps you should remember those words yourself."

Jane look startled a moment, then nodded. Giving his hand a final squeeze she said, 

"Finish your food and put your dishes in the sink. I'll take care of them in the morning."

He nodded.

She gathered her things and headed for the door.

"Good night, Henry."

"It was good to talk to you, Jane. Good night."

And she was gone.

It was good to talk to her, and gave him new revelations to add to the mix in his head. New viewpoints. New angles to study the world through.

"Those Sneetches . . .." he muttered to himself. "Is this cure our Sylvester McMonkey McBean?"

He had no answer, and so finished his meal.

_fin._


End file.
